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A full-on grin sits on his lips now, and I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile at me. A real smile, not one of those patronizing or smug ones I’ve been getting since I arrived here. This is just pure…I don’t know.
Happiness seems like the wrong word. It’s almost like he’s seeing something I’m not, and it makes me more unsettled; the same swirling feeling in my gut returning to accompany the electric buzz between us.
“It is.”
He lets out something between a laugh and a scoff. “Couldn’t possibly be that you actually give a shit about the kid, right?”
My lips form into a thin line and I shake my head. “Nope. Just doing my job.”
And when Elijah goes home to tell his dad about his awesome counselor who helped him get through the summer at a camp he hates going to, there’s no way in hell I won’t get back into Foltyn.
He’s a means to an end. The win-win Colin offered me. That’s it.
At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself.
7
KALEB
Tonight’s activity for all the various age groups—ours included—is campfires and s’mores, and even at almost twenty-one years old, it’s gotta be my favorite pastime of summer camp. Even if it’s something that isn’t a guarantee here, thanks to fire bans usually coming into effect by the beginning of July. But we had a wet spring in Oregon this year, and we’re all planning to take advantage of the opportunity to roast marshmallows on the fire before the forest dries up and we can’t.
Of course, wrangling a group of eleven-year-olds to sit still—even for snacks and treats—is a lot harder than it seems. I don’t know if it’s because I’m young enough for them to see me as cool, but not old enough for them to truly respect me when I tell them to do something. I just know it’s frustrating as hell sometimes, especially when they want to try testing my patience.
Colton and Jordan in particular have been doing it constantly this year. Of course, knowing I’m Park and Ash’s older brother is the most likely reason they think pushing the limits won’t get them in trouble in the first place.
“Do you think your parents are gonna let you come back here if one of you loses an eye from running around play-fighting with sticks?” I ask the two of them when they’re busy swinging their marshmallow-tipped sticks at each other like they’re swords. But my point does little to sway them into behaving, because they straight up ignore me.
“If you two don’t sit down and listen, I’ll walk you back to your cabin right now,” Avery says, not even looking up from where he’s shoving marshmallows on Elijah and Max’s sticks. And while I expect them to ignore him just like they did me, I’m shocked to find they actually do as he says without any complaint.
I’ll be damned.
After everyone has their s’more and no one is asking for seconds, I lean over toward Avery and murmur, “How’d you do that?”
Avery’s eyes flick up to meet my gaze. “What do you mean?”
Doing my best to keep my voice low and not disturb the moment of peace and quiet, I elaborate. “Get them to calm down so fast.”
A frown furrows his brow together and he shrugs. “I don’t know. I just told them what I wouldn’t want to hear at their age.”
“I do the same thing and it only works half the time.”
A grin lifts his lips. “Maybe it’s because they know you’re a pushover.”
My jaw drops open, and before I think better of it, I give him a playful shove on the shoulder. “The hell I am.”
“Keep telling yourself that, LaMothe,” he taunts before moving toward the empty spot on the opposite side of the fire.
I watch after him, wondering how the hell the person I’m seeing in front of me is the same guy who used that photo to out one of our teammates. It doesn’t compute properly in my brain as I take the final vacant seat between two of the kids.
All of us settle in, and the crackling from the fire, the soft whistle of the wind floating through the trees creates a calming effect over the group. It’s one of my favorite things about being out here every summer. Being one with nature. Feeling so small and insignificant inside a much larger whole.
It puts my soul at ease.
But not as much as it normally would, and I know the reason is sitting directly across from me.
The light from the flames illuminates his entire face, casting a warm glow over the sharp lines and planes of his nose and cheekbones. A bit of stubble has grown in on his jaw and cheeks, adding a more rugged look to him than I’m used to seeing. Aging him a bit too, so he looks more mid-to-late twenties rather than a year older than me.
And I hate how much more attractive it makes him.
